Hearts Series Bundle: Books 1-6

by Sabrina Lacey

  I want him. I know I want him. Knowing this is something I would never normally do, I open my mouth and say exactly what I’m thinking. “I’d like to spend the night.”

  Surprised, he looks up, the pan still held in his hand. He blinks and a sexy smile tugs at his lips. “Si.”

  That was his only answer. I spent the night, and every night after for four and a half years.

  I feel a hand on my cheek. I blink and see Brendan’s worried eyes asking questions his mouth isn’t sure he wants to know. I bring my hand up and cover his, press it into my skin as I struggle hard to keep a tear back. Dammit. If Christiano knew that I’m here with the man I left him for, and that I never told him that… he’d be crushed.

  “I can’t do this, Brendan. I’m sorry.” My heart is breaking.

  “You have a boyfriend, don’t you?” He removes his hand, and there’s anger building quickly behind his question. He starts to bend for his jeans. I don’t blame him for being angry. He’s naked and vulnerable.

  “I don’t.”

  He doesn’t believe me. His fingers hook on a belt loop, grabbing it. “Jesus. I can’t believe this.”

  I reach out and stop him. “Hey hey hey. I’m sorry. Wait. Please stop. Look at me.”

  With his jeans hanging from his hand, he waits, not at all happy.

  “I’m making a mess, aren’t I? Brendan, I don’t have a boyfriend. I don’t. Now don’t look at me like that. We broke up. But it was long term and he’s not…” I’m not sure how much to say. If I say he’s not even in this country, then Brendan will ask where he is and I’ll have to say Italy and then he might remember who I am. Did he even know where I was going that day I rode off in the cab? I don’t remember, but he’s already looking at me like I just tried to pull one over on him. Fuck, I hate lying. You have to think too much to cover your tracks.

  As if he can read my mind, he says, “You could be lying to me.”

  I wince and look down, but there’s his now fallen cock staring back at me. This is horrible. “I don’t have a boyfriend. We did break up. Really. It’s just I haven’t been with anyone since then. I’m not the sleep around type. Not that I wouldn’t be, or don’t want to be, but I never really had the opportunity. I’m talking too much.”

  “So, that’s why you’re freaking out.”

  “Why?” I’m not sure what part has filled in the blanks for him.

  “Because you haven’t been with that many guys. You’re still feeling loyalty to him.”

  Exhaling deeply, I say, “Yes. Exactly.”

  “Well that makes sense.”

  “Oh good. It just hit me. I’m sorry. It was really bad timing. I’ve never gone down on anyone besides him and when you said I was good…”

  He interrupts me, “You’re talking too much again.”

  I laugh uncomfortably.

  “Sorry. Sorry. This is a really sexy conversation, isn’t it?”

  He drops the jeans. “It could be.”

  15

  Annie

  Halter: ripped from my body, literally. Black bra: exposed. Me: Shocked.

  ________

  “I’ll go slow, since you’re such a delicate flower,” he teases, but the heat is back in his eyes and his voice is deep again.

  I hear the quick snap of my bra popping open and he slides it off with ease. Breathless, I watch him kissing my nipples as he pulls down my jeans.

  “Oooo, that’s nice. Slow is good. I like slow.”

  “I don’t like cheating,” he murmurs against my skin, his tongue reaching out to give me a little lick.

  I say on a long sigh, “Me neither. Not a fan.”

  A whip of his barely contained laughter grazes my bare stomach as he kneels in front of me. I touch his shoulders with the hesitancy of someone who just confessed she’s thinking about her ex. But seeing Brendan’s naked body kneeling in front of me is stripping away my reluctance and fast.

  But I can’t get it out of my head that I’ve lied to get here. I can turn back. I can stop and tell him.

  “Brendan…”I gasp as he kisses my silk panties, bringing his hand up to slip his finger under.

  “Yeah? Mmm… You’ve got hair down here. I like it.” His cock is hardening again as he kisses the silk once more, pressing against me so that I burn for him, opening.

  “Brendan? …Oh God.”

  He slides my panties down over my legs nice and slow. I step out of them and now there’s nothing covering me except for my socks. I start to wiggle out of them, too, but he stops me.

  “Leave ‘em. I’m busy here.”

  “Yes sir.”

  “That’s more like it.” Without warning, he buries his face in me and lifts up my leg to wrap it around his head. I watch his head moving in and out slightly as he licks me. Both his hands are on my ass, with one arm wrapped under me. He pushes my thigh out more so his tongue can easily reach further in. Just like he promised, he licks me slowly, sliding into my folds and caressing my clit with the tip of his tongue. I weave my fingers into his hair and curve my hips so he can get at me. Shivers run up my stomach to my nipples, twisting them.

  “You taste so good. I just want to keep eating you.”

  “Who’s stopping you?”

  He laughs, the sound muffled, which makes me start giggling like crazy. He shuts that right up by plunging his tongue inside me and grabbing my ass harder. I cry out and can’t help but rub on his face, abandoning myself to the quaking that’s just below the surface. I’m moaning so loudly, dripping wet, feeling the sweet burning sensation build more and more.

  “Wait. Wait!” I pull on his head. “I need you inside me.”

  He rises, wiping his mouth with the back of his arm. Looking down I see his cock is dark and full again. All I want is for him to plunge it deep inside my body.

  “You could have both.”

  “No. I’ve been waiting for this,” I say, not thinking how strange that must sound. My mind is gone.

  His eyebrows rise a little, and something stares back at me that I won’t understand tonight. I grab him and pull him to me as hard as I can. His arms go up on the wall and our bodies press together, my hands on his ribcage, elbows bent. Out of breath, I wrap my leg around his hip, feeling his cock hard against my inner thigh. He reaches for my hands and pulls them over my head, bending his knees to position himself. I move my hips a little to welcome him in and with a single thrust he plunges into me as both of us close our eyes and moan together, our chests smashed. I can taste myself on his lips as he kisses me hard. I do taste good and the lack of shame in tasting this is so intensely hot.

  He thrusts into me, going all the way in each and every time, then pulling out like a man who knows exactly how to do it. I cry out into his mouth, over and over as he fills me. It feels like we’re consuming each other. My heart expands as the wave of disbelief takes over me. I yank my mouth away so I can look into his eyes. With my hands held by him over our heads, he looks back at me and groans, moving his hips, lost in his hunger. I grab his mouth in a kiss, making him hammer harder into me, my back slamming against the wall. A primal animal instinct has us. He drops my hands, quickly yanking both my legs up. I grab onto his back and hold on for dear life as we fuck in a dark corner of my bar. Best investment I ever made pops into my head and I almost start to laugh but he shakes his head no and clamps his mouth onto mine again, ramming harder to make my laughter vanish, succeeding instantly. I don’t want it done gently. I want to be fucked like this. Hard and by someone who knows how.

  The whole length of him slips into me and he holds there. He moves his hips around, still set deeply inside me and I throw my head back. “Oh God,” I say on a gasp as the rocking of his hips pulls out my first contraction.

  “Hey. Look at me.”

  I do and he stares at me, jerking his whole body up. Gazing back at the man I’ve loved for so long throws me completely over the edge. My release is intense and rocks into me to draw it out, enjoying that he’s doing this to me. H
e groans and moves in and out again, staring at me as he pulses, releasing into me and bringing my orgasm higher. I realize suddenly that this feeling is new. It’s the feeling of not having a condom on. There is nothing between us. But it’s too late. There’s no turning back. My back arches, my breasts pressed into his as his mouth falls onto my shoulder, sucking on it as his body jerks. “Oh my God. Shit. I forgot to put a condom on. I haven’t done that in six years.”

  “It’s okay. I’m sure it’s fine.”

  He gasps, holding me, our eyes closed, spent and delirious. We don’t hear the door open. We don’t see the man standing by it, wearing a ski mask, high on adrenaline and drugs.

  “GIVE ME YOUR MONEY!!!”

  Our heads whip in the direction to see a gun pointed directly at us. Before I know it, Brendan releases me and has grabbed my jeans and halter with one hand, his other held out like he can block a bullet with his palm.

  “Hold on, man. Now just settle down. Annie, get dressed.”

  “FUCKIN’ GIVE ME YOUR MONEY OR I’LL BLOW YOUR FUCKIN’ BRAINS OUT! HERS TOO, LOVERBOY. NOW LET’S GO!”

  “Oh my God,” I whisper, pulling up my jeans as quickly as I can as Brendan yanks his on, too. The gun jerks a warning at us. Other than this warning, his hand is shockingly still. This isn’t the guy’s first robbery. My halter scrambles back over my head as fast as I can get it on. I forgot to lock the door after Brendan got here.

  “Give me all your money!” His voice is terrifying as louder he yells, “NOW!”

  Brendan, shirtless and barefoot, tries to appease him, saying as calmly and soothingly as he can, “Look. Here’s my wallet. Take it.”

  “Throw it on the ground!”

  I can’t keep my eyes off the gun. Brendan takes half a step and drops his leather wallet onto the floor with a dull thud. “There. Take it. Just leave us alone, okay?”

  The guy eyes him through the mask. He bends for the wallet, the gun trained on Brendan the entire time. But he doesn’t leave. My heart is slamming in my chest and I’m holding my breath. I see a ring on the guy’s finger. It looks like a silver skull of a bull.

  He growls, “Now the register!” and jerks the gun toward the bar.

  Brendan, on high alert, looks to me. “Annie.”

  “I have to open it,” I whisper. Fury flashes across Brendan’s face because we have no other choice. He knows it. I know it. He nods and I edge toward the bar.

  “FASTER!” the gunman yells, taking one terrifying step toward me.

  I jump and Brendan races to soothe him, “Okay. She’s just nervous. Give her a second. You’re gonna get the money.”

  The gunman backs closer to the door for an easy escape, his gun shifting to cover us both. I almost fall when I hit a divot in the rubber mat behind the bar. Gasping, I right myself and rush to open the register, body shaking. Twenties, ten, fives, ones – I grab them all.

  “Under the drawer!” The gunman growls at me.

  I throw him a curt nod to let him know I understand. Lifting the register, I hold up the few fifty and hundred dollar bills I have, for him to see. “This is it. There’s no more.”

  He jerks his gun toward him, urging me back. I begin my return, walking slowly, staring from the barrel of the gun to Brendan’s face. He’s watching the gun, too. His shirt is still off and all I can think is why is this happening? Tears well up in my eyes. My business is struggling already and now he’s taking all the money we made tonight plus the extra I had in the register, hoping we’d have a busy night. My mind is swimming and my heart hurts as the tears fall. I don’t see his finger tense on the trigger. I don’t see that he has no intention of letting us escape. I don’t see it. But Brendan does. He sees the intention and jumps in front of me, yelling “NO!”

  I go deaf from the explosion of the shot ringing out. Brendan crumbles to the ground. I scream. Before I even know what I’m doing, I throw the cash at the gunman’s face and run forward through it. He flinches and closes his eyes as anyone would. I knock his firing arm to the left. Another shot rings out. I grab his wrist with both hands where it’s weak twisting it backward toward him until he buckles, a natural human instinct to avoid breakage. I bend his fingers, too, just like my dad taught me, enough for me to grab the gun, jump back and point it at him. “Get out! Get the fuck out of my bar!”

  He’s shocked. It takes him a second to realize what’s happening.

  Just like he did, I yell louder, “NOW!” He backs out. My hand isn’t like his was. It’s shaking. But I’m just as dangerous because I’m clear on only one thing. I don’t have time. Brendan is unconscious. I have to call 911. There is no time. “FASTER!”

  He backs out the door and I shut it quick, fumbling with my keys to lock it. It starts to open again and I shoot through it. Hear a yell of pain as I hit my target through the wood, a hole left behind just like the one in my dad’s glove compartment in our family truck from the time his gun accidentally went off. I don’t open it to check if the guy’s dead. I don’t care. Locking the door fast, I race to Brendan thanking God my dad was a hunter and taught me how to use a gun. How to respect its power and know how to harness it when needed.

  I skid to the ground at Brendan’s side. There’s blood seeping out of his ribcage. I kneel to check if he’s breathing. Feel for a heartbeat. A faint pulsing pulls tears of relief and urgency from me. Wiping them away so I can see, I run to get my phone from behind the bar, dial 911 and rush back to him. Falling to the floor beside him, I pick up his head to hold it tenderly on my lap.

  “911, what’s your emergency?”

  “Someone’s been shot! We were robbed and the guy had a gun and…”

  She interrupts, “Ma’am, where are you now?” I tell her the address and the name of my bar, demanding she hurry. She assures me an ambulance is on its way and I drop the phone.

  Stroking his hair and kissing his forehead, I whisper, “Don’t die. Please don’t die.” I press down on the wound to stop the bleeding, not sure if this works for guns wounds, just knife wounds, or what. I’ve only seen it done in the movies, so I pray I’m doing it right. I feel so lost staring at his face. I kiss his lips, always holding back the blood. “Please don’t die, Brendan. God, please don’t die.” His eyelids twitch. “Brendan?!!”

  Through narrow slits, he tries to focus on my face. He groans from the pain. “What’s happening?”

  I keep pressing down on the wound. There’s blood all over my hand. “You jumped in front of the bullet. You save my life.”

  Growing louder and louder, multiple sirens rush toward us. He closes his eyes again. “Annie,” he moans. “It hurts. What are you doing?” He tries to look at the wound, but his head falls back and his eyes close, weak from blood loss.

  “I’m saving yours.” I kiss him. “Can you hear the sirens? Help is coming. Stay with me. Please stay with me!”

  Banging on the door pulls my head to that direction. The door is locked. They’re banging on it, but I don’t want to leave him. What if my hand pressed here is what’s keeping him alive?

  A police officer appears in the window and yells through it, “Ma’am! Unlock the door!” I shake my head at him, eye blurred by tears. He slams his baton into the glass while someone else, maybe two people, throw their bodies against the weight of the door trying to break it down. The window caves first. He used his gun to break it, aiming toward the bar. I squeeze my eyes shut at the explosion of bullet and glass, lunging my torso to cover Brendan and ducking my own head.

  Firemen, Police and E.M.T.s pour in through what used to be my window, stepping over shards that reach up dangerously from the frame. Their feet crunch through the glass on the floor as they race to us. I’m lifted up, my arms reaching toward Brendan as I cry out, “No!!”

  “We’ve got him.”

  I weep, restrained by stronger arms than mine, as I watch the E.M.T.s check the wound, press on it. Another runs in with a stretcher and they raise him on it, rushing to the door. It’s still locked.


  Through my dazed mind, I see what they need and reach for the key attached to my belt. “Here!” This is the last time I’ll ever wear it like this. They struggle to detach it from me, but the blood has made it too slippery. The E.M.T.s are already speeding to the window instead. “Go through the window!” the police yells to them as if they don’t already know. But everyone’s in crisis mode and trying to help save Brendan’s life.

  I’m staring after him as the policeman lets go of me and speaks, but I can only see his mouth moving, can’t hear what he’s saying. I want to be with Brendan. I break into a run for the window. They can’t leave without me! “Wait! Wait, please! Wait!!”

  The ambulance doors are just about to shut me out. Brendan’s inside with oxygen being pumped into him through a mask.

  “Please!” I grab the door and fight her for it.

  “You can’t ride with us. I’m sorry,” the female E.M.T. says, struggling with me.

  Thinking quick, I blurt out, “I’m hurt, too!” She’s taken aback. Regret flashes across her face at her mistake. She holds the door open and I climb in. “Thank you!”

  “We’re taking her to the hospital. She’s hurt.” She hurriedly tells the chasing policeman who nods as she closes the door. Sitting down next to her, I take Brendan’s hand and watch his unconscious face. The siren switches on. Our bodies sway with speeding twists and turns through traffic, like a jerking, grotesque dance to music no one wants to listen to.

  The E.M.T.s - one male, one female, plus a male driver – are all in their early thirties with arms that belie the strength it takes to do a job like this every day. The female pokes and prods me while I stare at Brendan. All of them remain faceless. It feels like I’m not really here.

  “Where are you hurt?”

  With my eyes fixed on him, I mumble. “I’m not.” She frowns and shares a look with her partner. “You’d do the same thing.”